Legolas' Bad Day
by MistressOfImladris
Summary: Mayhem ensues when Legolas uncovers an assassination attempt...


**A/N:** So first, as a warning: this is completely random, seeing as it was written at quarter to midnight, and I was hyper. Characters may include Legolas, the twins, Estel, Elrond, and Glorfindel Holmes.

* * *

Legolas woke up, feeling the coming day would be good. Happily, he sprang out of bed and slipped on his tunic, which was lying in wait on the floor for its unfortunate owner. With a startled yelp, he landed on his back, banging his head on his bed.

 _Think Positive,_ he reminded himself, rubbing his aching skull. _Obviously I needed a knock on the head to survive this day. I must be grateful for blessings in disguise._

Happy at finding a meaning for this formerly pointless suffering, Legolas waltzed towards the bathroom door, traitorous tunic in hand. As he was washing his face, some of the soap-bubbles found their way into his eyes, and he spent the next five minutes bumbling blindly around the room, stumbling into things he had never known existed in the room before.

 _Think Positive!_ he ordered himself, struggling not to panic at the horrific stinging in his eye. Finally he had managed to rinse the offending substance out of his eye, and he merrily scrubbed his face against a linen towel. 'My eye feels so clean!' he sang aloud to the tune of Lindir's newest ballad. 'So clean feeleth my eye!'

Somehow Thranduilion managed to get almost completely dressed without a third mishap, and it was only on the way out of the bedroom that disaster struck again. In the midst of opening the door, he failed to observe his bare foot right in front of the wooden fixture. A howl echoed through the halls of Imladris as the Elven prince removed his throbbing toe from underneath the solid door, tenderly enclosing it in his fingers as he hopped towards his bed.

 _Think Positive,_ his mind screamed at him as he nursed his aching appendage.

By and by, Legolas felt recovered enough to make his way back to the door. Standing a safe distance away – in this case, three feet back – Legolas opened the bedroom door and slipped out, shutting it cautiously behind him. It was only when he reached the dining room door that he realised that the marble floor was remarkably cool on his bare feet, and that he was still holding the linen towel from the bathroom.

By this time, Legolas was doubting the goodness of this day. After all, a headache, sore eye, throbbing toe, and the realisation that you are standing at your host's dining room entrance, bare-footed and still holding a damp towel made you wonder if you ought to have gotten out of bed yet.

With a growled oath, Legolas turned and stumped back to his chamber, barely resisting the urge to take his beloved knives to the ridiculous towel he clenched tightly in his fist. _Think Positive,_ he thought, vicious thoughts running through his mind. _This happened for a reason: perhaps assassins are waiting in the dining room to make an end of you, and my tardiness will foil their wicked plans._

At this thought, a small amount of happiness returned to Legolas' countenance, and, secure in the knowledge that he was no longer about to be murdered, he trotted towards the dining room. He glanced down several times to ensure that his boots were on and that he no longer held the towel, and it was only when he sat down at the dining room table that he relaxed.

His three sidekicks – Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel – looked at him in interest, sensing the vague air of trauma around the prince. Said sidekicks' father, Elrond, looked at Legolas in worry, the Elven-king's most-recent words coming back to him suddenly: _'My name is Thranduil Oropherion. You killed my son. Prepare to die.'_ With a nervous chuckle, the Lord of Imladris inquired after the Prince's health.

'I am in the best of health, my lord,' Legolas replied politely. 'Although I fear it would not have been so if I had not succeeded in foiling the plot that endangered my life this morning.'

Elrond clawed at his throat, beginning to hyperventilate. 'P-plot? What plot?'

'I happen to know there were assassins hiding in this room, not a quarter-hour before now.' He sent a sinister glance towards the twins and Estel. 'My lord, if it had not been for me, it is quite possible that we would all be in mortal danger.'

Elrond began to giggle uncontrollably, causing the twins to exchange a glance.

 _I knew we should have sent him off on a vacation,_ Elladan said silently.

 _To Harad,_ his brother replied. _They have such nice beaches there._

* * *

Three or four goblets of miruvor later, Elrond was quite recovered. He had called in the aid of Glorfindel, who practised detective-work in his spare time, and was now much reassured that he would not meet his end on the point of Thranduil's sword in the next month.

His thoughts drifted back to the conversation between Glorfindel and himself, earlier that morning. Having summoned the Balrog-slayer, he was sitting expectantly in his study, reading a rather badly-written adventure novel by one Estel Elrondion.

The door banged open, ricocheting off the wall and slamming in the newcomer's face. A pained grunt from behind the door caused the Elven-lord to grin rather meanly, but it was wiped off his face when the door opened considerably more slowly.

'Ah, Glorfindel.'

'My name is Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower,' the Elf exclaimed, striking a pose. 'It is my business to know what other people do not know.'

'There is that, too!' Elrond exclaimed. 'I was walking by your bedroom door last night, and you were calling that same phrase out in your sleep like a madman! You were also complaining about 'More art' or something of the sort.'

''More art,'' scoffed Glorfindel. 'Moriarty: a villainous friend of Maeglin in the First Age. He helped betray Gondolin.'

Elrond just sighed. 'About the more recent matter, then... Legolas believes he has foiled a plot on his life. I need you to figure out who was behind this threat, and resolve the issue.'

Glorfindel's eyes lit up. 'Elementary, my dear Elrond. Elementary.'

* * *

Legolas was relaxing. Safe from whoever wanted to wipe him off the face of the earth, he was sitting in Elrond's garden, softly strumming his lute. A peach fell on his head. With a quiet groan, the Elf-prince passed out.

* * *

Glorfindel was scuttling around the halls of Imladris, stopping every other Elf he passed and shrieking, 'Aha, thou foul villain! Didst thou believe that thou could elude the mighty Glorfindel for long?'

It just so happened that one of the unfortunate Elves happened to be Elrohir. Loudly protesting his innocence, the younger twin was dragged off by one ear to the wine cellars, where he was shoved into the already-crowded room. Five minutes later, he recognised his human brother as Estel came hurtling through the door, Glorfindel's indignant accusations ringing through the hallway above them.

'Care for a drink, Estel?' Elrohir asked, feeling charitable as he handed his half-full wineglass to his frazzled brother.

* * *

Legolas slowly sat up, sparing a glance for his rather damaged lute - after all, he _had_ landed on it when he keeled over - before turning to the offending fruit. It was obviously unripe, but one side had been smashed in to reveal the pit, making Legolas wince. It must have fallen from a great distance in order to obtain such injuries.

With great loathing, he reached for the mangled peach, before hurling it through the air towards a bush. As it landed amidst the leaves, the bush rose up and walked threateningly towards Legolas. On the way, leaves and other bits of foliage fell away, and, to Legolas' great surprise, revealed none other than Glorfindel, former lord of Gondolin.

'Ah, Glorfindel,' Legolas said, nervously backing away. 'Nice to know I'm not the only one here who likes being one with nature!'

With an inarticulate growl, the golden-haired Elf leapt forward towards the Mirkwood prince, bringing both of them to the ground. 'It was your own dirty plan,' Glorfindel shrieked. 'You are all in the assassination plan together, but it is I who am in danger, not you!'

Legolas defended himself bravely, but nonetheless, found himself dragged off through the garden, down the halls of Imladris, ( _Thank goodness no one appears to be around,_ Legolas thought absentmindedly) and around a corner. There, however, Glorfindel found and captured Elladan, who was walking by, balancing a full wineglass precariously on three books.

Elladan, slightly confused at the sudden hold on his ear, questioned his captor. 'I'm not late for anything, Glorfindel,' he announced, eyes widening as the wineglass began to slide. 'Glorfindel, I really think…'

 _Crash!_

Without blinking, Glorfindel stepped over the mess of shattered crystal and wine, glancing accusingly at Elladan. 'Valars' sake, Elladan! You have the most extraordinarily bad coordination and balance.'

The elder twin scowled.

They reached the cellar door before any further words could be exchanged, and Glorfindel thrust Legolas in first.

The sight that met his eyes made them practically pop out. The room was nearly filled to capacity with angry (and, in some cases, tipsy) Elves, who only became angrier at the sight of the great detective.

'The impudence of that Elf!' Legolas cried, shaking his fist at Glorfindel, who was glancing triumphantly at his many captives, Elladan still in his grasp. 'Arresting me when I was the one who's life was so endangered!'

'Yes, he is a strange and weird character,' Elrohir agreed, nodding affably at Elladan as he made his grand entrance into the cellar.

The older twin looked around, eyes wide with surprise. 'This must be three-quarters of the population of Imladris,' he exclaimed. 'What fun.'

From somewhere near the back of the room, a snort answered Elladan's last remark. 'Fun indeed, Elrondion,' came Erestor's sarcastic voice. 'You have not been in here for hours.'

* * *

It was about an hour later that Glorfindel knocked on the door to his lord's study. Upon being granted entrance, the re-born Elf proudly announced his success in tracking down the conspirators.

'I have them locked in the cellar,' he confided. 'Do you wish to see them?'

Elrond nodded, trying to hide his relief at having those who threatened Legolas' life - and his own, if one thought about it - found out.

As he was escorted to the makeshift prison, Elrond wondered at the lack of servants in the halls. 'I sincerely hope you have not frightened them off with the news of the assassins, my friend?'

'I should say not!' exclaimed Glorfindel, offended.

They reached the cellar door, and Glorfindel drew forth the key from his pocket. 'I beg you to remain calm, my lord. This may come as quite a shock at first, but…' The door swung open and Elrond looked in.

'I can hardly see who it is if every Elf in Imladris is also observing him,' he said testily.

'My lord, it is all of them. They were all conspiring against the Prince of Mirkwood's life.'

'But the Prince of Mirkwood himself is in there!' Elrond cried, confused. 'As well as my three sons, Erestor, Lindir, and the ambassador from the Havens. Glorfindel, what have you done?!'

'But they are all guilty!' Glorfindel insisted. 'After a while, I began detecting a pattern as we passed each Elf: every second one had a dirty look in their eyes, or were muttering of revenge, or other such signs. And Elladan himself attempted to murder Legolas with a wineglass.'

'A wineglass?' Elrond glanced towards his firstborn, who shrugged helplessly, having overheard the conversation.

'Indeed,' Glorfindel confirmed, turning a scathing glare on the young Elf in question. 'He threw it at the Prince's feet, hoping Legolas would slip and knock his head on the floor. I deduced it from the frustrated words he let forth at the failure of his little plan.'

'And how is it that Legolas is here, a suspect himself?'

'Ah,' Glorfindel began. 'This is a good part. Having found out that I was on his trail, he, in desperation, cast an unripe peach at my head, seeking to decapitate me. Thus and therefore, Legolas Thranduilion is being held here on a charge of attempted murder.'

'Peaches and wine-glasses!' Elrond repeated hysterically. 'What will it be next?'

'I should not like to think,' Glorfindel replied gravely, mistaking Elrond's disbelief for horror.

Shoving Glorfindel back, Elrond stood to the side. Gesturing to the Elves below them, he ordered them to remove their presences from the wine cellar.

Many scathing glares were directed towards Glorfindel as the Elves filed up the stairs and past the detective. The twins, Estel, and Legolas came to stand beside Elrond and Glorfindel, glancing smugly at the latter Elf.

When everyone was finally out of the cellar, Elrond turned to Legolas. 'I think perhaps you had better come back to my study with me,' he announced. 'After all, you never actually explained the reasons behind a possible assassination attempt.'

Legolas frowned, not wanting to recount the first events of the morning. Nonetheless, if it meant that he would remain safe… 'Very well, my lord.'

Once all six were sitting in Elrond's office, Legolas began, determined to tell 'the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,' as Glorfindel grandly put it.

'It all started when I slipped on my tunic as I was getting out of bed…'

* * *

It took close to two hours for everything to be sorted out. After Legolas finished his story, Glorfindel had to tell his, and much confusion ensued. The twins and Estel found everything quite amusing, and even Elrond cracked a smile once he was sure that no lives were actually in danger.

Glorfindel's golden hair contrasted rather dreadfully with his scarlet face, and Estel saw no reason not to tell him so, since he was still rather annoyed at having been tossed into a wine cellar. Glorfindel's face darkened several notches at the comment, and he muttered what were almost certainly violent threats.

By and by, though, everything was cleared up and Glorfindel promised that if on his next case, he came upon too many suspects, he would get the help of a trusted assistant (otherwise known as Elrond) to narrow down the possibilities.

Legolas spent the remainder of the day resting his twice-injured head, having wrapped up his toe in ointment-soaked cotton. The eye that had been affected by the soap had an annoying tendency to blink more often than usual, which was driving the Elf mad.

A few hours of blissful peace and quiet came and went before the bell rang, and Legolas hobbled towards the Peredhils' family dining room. Sitting down in relief, he observed with a faint scowl the bowl of peaches in the middle of the table - and Elrohir's impish grin.

Pointedly, he reached for the bowl of apples sitting beside the peaches and placed one on his plate. 'Care for a peach, Elrohir?' he asked sweetly.

'No, I thought you might want one, though, so I went out and picked some,' the twin replied, glancing at his twin. 'We washed them carefully, though did not go so far as to use soap.'

Legolas narrowed his eyes at them as he took a bite of the apple…

And promptly choked.

Not until tears were streaming down the wood-elf's cheeks and Elrond was beginning to wonder if his life wasn't about to come to an abrupt end did Legolas manage to stop coughing. Red-faced and breathless, Legolas grabbed his water glass and downed the contents. 'What happened to those apples?' he asked, his eyes still watering.

'What a misfortune,' Elladan said, looking grieved. 'Those must be some of the ones that _fell_ in the pot of brine when Andreth was making pickles. Elrohir and I took care to retrieve them after a while and have kept them safe ever since.'

Biting back an improper word, Legolas split the apple in half with his knife, before placing one piece on each twin's plate. 'Pickled apple… I'll have to tell our culinary staff at home all about it. I'm sure they'll be delighted with the new recipe.'

The twins nodded sagely. 'Indeed.'

* * *

That night, Legolas was climbing into bed. He had moved slowly, deliberately, determined not to have another mishap. He had refrained from using soap when he washed his face before changing into his nightclothes, he had watched where he placed his feet, and there were no tunics on the floor any longer.

 _So far so good,_ he thought as he climbed between the covers.

Of course, his good fortune couldn't last for too long - life would get boring, if it did. As he let himself fall backwards onto his bed, he heard a long groan, felt himself tipping and sliding, and…

His bed came apart in pieces. The mattress landed heavily on the floor, one side still caught up on the side-piece of the frame. The foot board clatttered over, as did the headboard. Unfortunately for Legolas, the headboard clattered over in the wrong direction, and caught the back of his head as he sat up.

 _This is IT!_ he thought in desperation, clutching at the back of his head. _If I don't have a concussion by this time, it will be the miracle of the Third Age!_

After shoving the headboard away and laying the mattress flat on the floor, Legolas lay down, too tired and in too much pain to try to get help. ( _With my luck, the only help that would come would be those blasted twins, anyways._ )

All in all, it had been a rotten day. Legolas knew he would never again trust a day that went well until he stepped out of bed. _Ah well,_ he thought sleepily. _Tomorrow could be completely different. Knowing my luck, it will be unimaginably worse._

The End

 **A/N:** Sooo, obviously I don't own LotR, Sherlock Holmes, OR The Prince is Snide *cough* I mean The Princess Bride. I just couldn't help putting the references in. ;) I'm sorry if the linebreaks didn't work out; they were being strange. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed; please drop a review!


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